Have you ever felt an exhaustion so complete that you couldn’t imagine going on with living? I’m having that feeling more and more these days.

Am I psyching myself out? Probably.

How did I get this far off the path? I haven’t the foggiest idea.

As I am writing this, I am becoming more cognizant of the fact that I am perpetuating my own condition.. I am complaining incessantly for no other reason than to look for something to blame my depression on. I am – in fact – giving voice to the negative dialog running in my head, Fuck – that’s the LAST thing I want to do.

I guess it had to come out somewhere. It’s very prominent in my journaling, and I guess I’ve turned a blind eye on it for the past few years. And that was likely due to exhaustion.

This beast hounding me is of my own doing. But the depression isn’t. And that’s the battle that’s getting harder to fight. It’s a fine line to walk, knowing the past experiences I’ve had and the intensity of the process. And I really don’t know which end of it I will come out at.

When you feel the last of your strength slowly draining away, you wonder how you can go on. You hope that someone might take notice, and offer a kind word or even a smile. And when that doesn’t occur, your mind begins to repeat the words “help me” over and over – an unspoken plea to any human being that might have a similar degree of empathy to sense these silent cries.

It is a rare occurrence that any human being will pick up on these kind of feelings. We are all so desensitized to each other by the digital environment. Heads down, fingers swiping over tiny screens, lost in the immediate gratification provided by these addictive little “things.” And – yes – I am including myself in this phenomena.

The degree of my pain is the result of my own doing. But the source of it – I am unsure.

Your mind considers many more in-depth issues than it does in it’s younger days…or so I’m told.

Whoop-de-fucking-doo.